


A Performance

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Rakan, Cock Worship, Drunk Sex, Edging, Fisting, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2020, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, One Shot, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Top Sett, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 3. Fisting |Medical play| Orgasm denialAfter fighting his way to the top of the Noxian fighting pits, Sett grows discontented, and decides to explore the rest of Runeterra in hopes of something that might hold his interest for more than a short while.Upon finally overcoming his grudge against Ionia and the vastayans who outcast his mother, he stumbles upon an avian vastayan named Rakan.And, if nothing else, they do have some good, clean fun with his massive fists, at least.
Relationships: Rakan/Sett (League of Legends)
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950421
Kudos: 46
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	A Performance

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Bit of an odd pair, but this was essentially cause the moment Sett came out I just… knew I had to do something NSFW with him sooner or later lmao, so I guess pairing him with the other Vastayan pretty boy is one way to do it! 
> 
> Also this is pretty fucking long! Wow! I wrote it all in one day too, if you can believe that O_O Tried to cram some story into it, idk, anyway, yes!

Sett was used to being stared at. Whether for his appearance or grand personality, or his mere fighting prowess, he was admired, gawked upon, cherished, reviled. Whatever it was, he was used to the fame, the infamy, the non-stop attention and all the pressure that came with it. Every night in the dirty, drug-ridden pits of the Noxian underground, he was the one to bet on, or, at least, the one to watch. All the way to the top, now the owner of the bloody arenas he used to scrounge for slivers of silver, he finally could take a break. And after a few years of being top dog, he decided to take a step away from his linear life, and try a new path for himself in broad daylight.

With enough gold in various banks and some on his person to carry him lifetimes over, he left Noxus on a whim. It wasn’t a change of heart or anything noble like that. No, he’s not the kind of man to be so poetic, nor emotional. It was just that he felt like going somewhere else.

He had nowhere in particular in mind. So he ventured far and wide in Runeterra, from the heights of Targon to the slums in the deepest depths of Zaun hidden beneath Piltover. The lands of Demacia he avoided. He never felt much allegiance to Noxus, though. Superstition, maybe.

Either way, all the diverse places he travelled, he would settle in for a while. Days, weeks, maybe months, if he was lucky.

But that feeling always came back, eventually. The urge to leave, saddle up and take his money and few possessions elsewhere, disappearing in the night as mysterious as he arrived to whatever city or small settlement he’d happened upon, leaving all the women and men who’d fallen for him in that short span of time, heart-broken.

But they’d move on. That was the only real rule of the world, Sett thought. Everything changes, second to second, day to day, all adding up into years where you might look back and realize you’re entirely different than you had been a decade ago. Might as well be a different person, although, technically, you were the same being, somehow.

It wasn’t all lonesome and depressing, though. No, no, much the opposite, actually. He enjoyed himself plenty, exploring spectacles both man-made and natural, taking in the sights and the sounds the world and its people had to offer from all regions. He never realized how closed off he was in his little square in Noxus, how his life was so static, even though it had seemed so lively with death and violence and kingpins brought down by his own hands.

He’d never realized how little of the world he’d really had access to. How much he’d missed in his first twenty years of life.

Maybe that was what the feeling was. Just wanting to see as much as he could in the short span a human-vastayan lived. A meagre hundred years at best, and that wasn’t factoring in the high-risk life style Sett tended to fall into.

He’d had plenty of fun: been in love, or lust, with enriching experiences, music, dance, laughter, bloodshed. The outer reaches of Noxus to Bilgewater, the aforementioned Mount Targon to Piltover and its twin Zaun, the frosty sea of Freljord to the forgotten deserts of Shurima.

But he’d never been to Ionia.

It was like his avoidance of Demacia, but amplified by a million.

It reminded him of his mother, who he still visited on occasion, where he would sometimes ask about the place, about other vastayan. He’d never met any other than her, and being a half-blood, he didn’t really consider him one, anyway. But he was curious. And she was always willing to talk with her son, exchanging stories the few times of year he came back to visit, beside a fire in a noble house. It was the least she deserved.

“It was a peaceful place,” she would say. “Without war or even malice. You would settle disagreements by simply talking them out. There was never any fighting. If you had contempt for someone or something, you should shift your perspective, or else forget about it entirely.”

It sounded as far from Noxian philosophy as one could get.

She spoke highly of Ionia like that. The people and the architecture, the land’s beauty unmatched, pristine and clean and blissful. Reminiscing, but not rueful. She wouldn’t change a thing she’d done in life, for it would mean never having the joy of having a son, and being able to have adventures outside of the place she was born.

But they both knew, even though they rarely spoke of it, what had happened to exile her from her tribe. Falling for a Noxian man, charming and funny, so much so that he was able to lie to her for months about his true occupation as nothing more than a greedy pit-fighter.

Maybe it all could have been forgotten, if not for her becoming with child. That was the nail in the coffin, the unavoidable sin that had her cast out of all of Ionia, permanently.

But times have changed.

Ionia is no longer the peaceful place his mother retold. By necessity or corruption, either way, the faction has joined the modern world in sprawling wars as well as individual spats, using their mystical powers to give them a leg up in battle.

So, he figures that if there were any time for such an ancient, traditional race as the vastayan to change, it would be now.

He’s never been to Ionia.

But he will now.

\---

It was a beautiful land. She didn’t lie about that. Of course she wouldn’t.

Large, open, vast expanses of flat land. Shimmering rivers of the clearest water he’d ever seen, and he’d seen many rivers. Tall mountains not quite as dizzying as Targon’s range, but that somehow seemed to match the calm, eternal aura of the magical region.

With only a pack of survival equipment and a gold sack hidden in his pocket, so far he has been wandering aimlessly amidst forests and plains. He hasn’t seen any signs of civilization yet, something that was increasingly rare as the population of Runeterra inevitably grew. He was thankful for that. In some more concentrated regions, you couldn’t even find a spot without some artificial light in the distance, some far-off sounds of humans or yordles. He thought that was a shame.

But now, as the sun begins to finally wear down the sky, he starts to hope he might find a town, just for the night. Sometimes he prefers a bedroll under the stars, but it sure was a headache if it happened to rain...

And maybe it’s just a coincidence, but at that very moment, he spots a skyline over the horizon of white, hot spring rocks: a short skyline, but one of solid stone. And as he walks closer, he sees the swirls in the architecture, unlike anything he’s ever seen, and knows he just has to see it up close and personal.

His first Ionian city. Oh boy.

He casts away his nerves with ease, breathing deep and focusing on the present, just like he would before every fight, before every meeting with seedy pit bosses and the like, and walks on.

Half an hour later, and he’s made it to the entrance of the city. Took his sweet time, enjoying the scenery and all that, but now he was beginning to feel worn down, the ache in his legs from walking for an entire day finally getting to him.

Still, though, he just has to take in the surrounding atmosphere before he rushes for a place to stay the night.

He breathes in deep, and with his vastayan wolf lineage, even out there—on the paved road leading to the town which was still a minute away—he can smell food. A delicious combination of aromas: baked things, roasted meat, his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since beginning his trek that morning.

There was also the scent of flowers on the breeze, planted somewhere in town. The odd, subtle sweet smell of magic, a hint of smoke and flame.

His wolf ears pick up the sounds of human-ish voices, no squeaks of yordles, which he always thought was a good thing. But their accents were peculiar, flowing and smooth, so unlike sharp Noxian tongues. Only his mother had ever spoken anything like this, and after years of living in Noxus, she’d picked up some of their speaking patterns to blend in.

But what he notices most of all, as he walked under the wooden archway to the middling-sized town, is that he can’t fully understand them.

He’d heard drunkards’ accents so garbled in Bilgewater it seemed like a different language, but they were actually the same old common he’d always heard. Code words and thief speak was something he’d become well-versed in over the years, as well. But only truly strange, non-humanoid beings peeking in from other-wordly dimensions actually spoke something else.

Or, apparently, this town.

And finally, as he passes the first house, it confirms his suspicions.

A humanoid woman folding drying clothes in her yard, initially appearing no different than any Noxian or other from anywhere else.

But then she turns her back to him, and a long, furry tail the colour of a fox’s follows her movements, similarly coloured ears in her red hair twitching.

She was vastayan.

Pure blood.

He misses his step and nearly falls flat on his face, but just barely catches himself in time.

He looks up, and sees people walking like any other ordinary town. But they all have animal ears just like his, fully functional and as much a part of them as their arms or legs.

But what he didn’t have, and they did, were tails. Tails, wings, claws, scales, fins, whiskers, slitted eyes, all tell-tale signs of their pure lineage, and his muddled one. Compared to them, he was barely vastayan at all.

Some of them were fully covered in fur, others with only ears and a tail. Most of them were foxes or felines, some wolves, a few of them other animal species.

An entire village of them. Dozens of them in plain view. When he’d never seen a single one besides his own mother before.

It was unreal.

“Is something wrong?” comes a quiet, feminine voice, and he turns to the side to see a tall, feline vastayan woman. So near to him, with slitted eyes and small, barely visible whiskers upon her cheeks. Human in every other regard, but lacking human ears, round, black cat ones instead atop her head.

Sett clears his throat, automatically throwing on his enormous amount of charisma, like nothing’s amiss. “Oh, no, no, not at all. I’m just visiting from another town, and I was wondering if there might be a place to stay the night here, at all?”

Her eyes light up, a warm smile across her face. “Oh, I’ll show you the way, if you might?” she says, like he isn’t a mutt.

Then Sett realizes that, so long as she doesn’t see his backside, and his lack of wolfish tail, she doesn’t know he’s a half-blood. Sure, he should have whiskers and claws like her, ideally, but something about his face tended to make certain people forget what they were thinking, anyway.

“That would be wonderful,” he says, adding that deep growl that all the girls like her go crazy for.

And just like a human—or Gods forbid, a yordle—she falls right for it. Blushing over her shoulder in a coy way, she beckons him with her thin hand, and he steps in line behind her slim, undeniably feline tail.

It was still hard to believe. Like a dream, or a nightmare. Sure, thought he might stumble across the vastayan, but he didn’t think it would be this easy. Nor that he would find an entire city on his very first damn day in Ionia.

But whatever, stranger things have happened in his life—not really—but whatever.

Through the town of stone buildings and wooden homes of carved, elegant cherrywood design, and the streets of people who thankfully don’t stare, she leads him toward the centre of it all. She takes a right and walks for bit more, then stops, outstretching her tan arm to a larger, darker two-story building.

“This is The Nightingale Inn, the town’s best rest stop for adventurers or travellers such as yourself! So, would you like me to show you around more, or..?”

“Oh, I would love to, but I really am dead tired, to be honest. I’ll probably stay a few days, though, so who knows,” he lies completely, winking slyly. He wasn’t that tired, and was getting the hell out of here the moment he awoke.

She giggles and bids him a good night, the promise enough to satisfy her, buying Sett’s entire deal full-course.

Really though, he’s terrified.

Normally, he would always accept a night with any person kind enough to show him their city, if not to bed, then with drinks and local food. But this town... these... vastayans. It was just too much, all at once.

He quietly breathes to steady himself, and pushes the double doors to the inn open.

Well, thankfully, an inn’s an inn, no matter where you go. A roaring fire at the heart of it, dim lighting making for good story-telling or lonely drinking, a handful of people to blend in with and liven the room, but not too busy or loud, either.

It smells absolutely delicious, so Sett goes straight to the bar, trying to hide his back against the wall but not be too obvious about it, either. Somehow he makes it without tripping on his own two feet again, despite the numerous patrons that begin to notice the straggler, some even catching his eye. They were all vastayan, of course. Every last one of them.

He orders a drink and a dish he’s never heard of before, but he bets will be good, considering the scents all around him. As awful as all these stubborn vastaya were, the atmosphere of this inn and the darkening town outside, were almost nice enough to want to stay more than just to sleep in it.

But there was no way he was doing that. A meal and a drink to sleep, and he’d find some human town to explore, instead. More familiar territory.

But then, something catches his eye.

Glinting like gold coins, he watches as an avian being takes the seat next to him on the corner.

Sett tries to ignore the vastayan, noting that all the other seats at the bar were taken, anyway, so it means nothing.

But it’s rather hard, because with his whole lack of tail thing, he has to awkwardly sit to the side on the barstool. Which means the only way to really pull that off without looking completely odd is to prop his elbow on the bar, which means either looking out into the bar like a creep, or talk to the other people at the bar casually.

So, seeing that the gold bird is alone, Sett starts talking.

“You know what a La-vet-a Ah-sa-vay is?”

The avian man turns, and Sett is surprised to actually… be kind of taken aback by how he looks. Not because he’s unsightly or remarkable in an unfortunate way like some, no. Quite the opposite, actually. With wildly emotive eyes and defined cheekbones, he’s… pretty cute.

“Lavieta Asavhey?” the man echoes, his voice smooth like an announcer’s, or perhaps, a performer’s.

“Yeah, one of those.”

“It’s... a type of red wine,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s wine? Damn. I would’ve gotten something else if I knew that.”

Sett would be happy to leave the conversation there, as the innkeeper gives him his drink and his meal then, but the vastayan keeps talking, surprisingly: “That’s alright. It’s good enough!”

Sett squints at the stranger playfully, having to keep turned to keep his little secret, a secret. So he picks up his glass and takes a sip.

“Ah, I might not know how to pronounce it at all, but it is pretty good. It’s a lot more flowery than most wine I’ve had.”

“So you aren’t from Ionia, then?”

“No, I usually just drink imports,” Sett chuckles. Not a total lie, but in trying to keep up with his lie that he’s just from another Ionian town—and is definitely, totally a vastayan, so he doesn’t get kicked out of this backwards town—it is, technically, a lie.

“Ah, I see...” the bird man says. “I have a name, by the way, it’s Rakan.” Much better than bird man. Would you also, happen to have a name?”

“Sure. Tess.” It’s just his name backwards. Not the brightest invention, but it’s what he usually falls back on for some reason anyway.

“Now that’s a strange name-”

“With an e at the end. Tesse.”

The man, Rakan, hides his laughter with his hand. “Okay, okay. Maybe you’re from another part of Ionia I’m not familiar with.”

“Oh yeah,” Sett says, waving his arm out, “from wayyyyy out there. Other side of the land! Completely different place out there. I mean, not too different, but, you know. Different.”

Sett turns back to the table, and tries some of the food to distract from his blundering. Usually he could lie better than this, he swears! Must be this town, or the guy’s large wing, making him nervous... or it could be his glimmering eyes or lanky, lean figure, but Sett tries really hard to not think about that.

“Well,” Sett sighs, “the Lavetsaya, whatever, the damn wine might be good, but this... What is it, pasta? It is... interesting.”

Rakan snickers at him. “Yeah, it’s an acquired taste, berry pasta. If you want some actual food, I’d recommend something else, in fact...”

And before Sett can stop him, Rakan gets the barkeep’s attention, and a few minutes later, there’s another hot, strange dish before him. Looking kind of like a welcoming, light orange soup, but with vegetables and other strange ingredients he’d never seen before dispersed throughout.

“On me,” Rakan says, flicking the bowl toward Sett.

“Oh, no, I don’t-”

“Go on, I insist.”

“Well then, let me at least pay for it-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Rakan winks.

Hm...

Well, Sett exhales, those persistent words, that mischievous face, he might as well.

And he does, hesitantly bringing the silver spoon to his mouth, eyeing Rakan all the while.

Like pumpkin but magical, carrots and ginger and undefinable flavours, all in one tiny spoonful.

It’s delicious.

He drinks it all down in record time, while Rakan just laughs at him.

\---

It’s the unholiest hour of night by the time the double doors burst open, and Sett is drunker than he has been in half a year.

But at least he’s not alone this time, as that avian vastayan, Rakan, literally flies right out after him, laughing even louder than he is.

He has no idea what he’s laughing at, having been laughing so long and so delirious that he can’t even remember, but all he knows is that whatever it was, it was really funny.

And that he came out of here to get a breath of fresh air, and that’s all.

But then, unexpectantly, a hand grips his, dragging him away from the lights of the inn and down the road.

Sett could easily fight it—he might not be quite as brawny as he used to be, but his physique is still clearly nothing to scoff at—but he just goes with it, feeling too good to even mess around with a half-assed argument in such a strange and fresh place as Ionia.

“Where are you taking me?” he still asks around his choking laughter, letting the lankier man weave him through the windy streets with impressive, almost dance-like, finesse.

“Somewhere special,” Rakan says mysteriously, as their laughter finally dies down.

They both still feel warm and fuzzy, with good food and notes of alcohol still on their tongues, but now the rest of the world becomes a part of them. The quiet singing of insects, the calm stillness of night, a half moon high in the sky, obscured partly by wisps of clouds.

And stars. Thousands of tiny, glimmering stars, leading the way.

They rush through the night in silence, Sett not questioning as Rakan goes straight out of the city and into the wilderness away from it.

He only starts questioning after they’ve been walking out there for a good dozen minutes.

“So, where are we going, again?”

“Oh,” Rakan says, shrugging, “I don’t know. I don’t even live in this town, to be honest, I just thought it would be fun to go into a forest,” he smiles.

Sett stops, hand slipping from Rakan’s. “You don’t live here?”

“No, but neither do you.”

“Right, I-”

“-don’t live in Ionia, either.”

“Shit...”

Rakan’s smile stays, as he slowly walks up to Sett, but a mischievous glint comes to his eyes. “You know, the moment you talked to me, not even able to say ‘red wine’ in our tongue, I knew you weren’t vastayan.”

“W-what?”

“I mean, you are, but only halfway, right? The other one’s a human?” he tuts, walking closer still. “What a disgrace against our proud race. You know, some vastayan tribes would not only ex-communicate for that, but publicly humiliate? Maybe even do something more extreme, if it had to come to that...”

Sett’s brow furrows, his hands to either side becoming fists as instinct kicks in. “What are you trying to say?”

He was right before Sett, on eye level with him, when Sett was so used to looking down at others. “Just that the town wouldn’t like it. They  _ really _ wouldn’t like it.”

Sett frowns, tensing his arms as he prepares himself for whatever’s coming next. An attack, a first, claws, whatever Rakan gave him, he would give back ten times as much to win.

But he wasn’t prepared for Rakan to kiss him directly on the lips.

At first, he doesn’t even know what to make of it, what to think. Then he’s confused. Then bewildered.

Then furious.

He pushes Rakan away with open palms, to make distance more than anything. Rakan skids back on the forest floor gracefully, wing helping to steady him so he doesn’t even lose his balance, really.

“What was that?!”

Rakan laughs, straightening back up. “They might not like it, but  _ I _ don’t mind. Not at all.”

“But... why did you do  _ that?” _

“What, haven’t you been kissed before? Such a pretty face, I’d be surprised. Everyone stares at you, I noticed that. You must get it all the time, right?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“And, well,” Rakan huffs, crossing his arms, “you were staring at me all night, and definitely in a way that tends to tell  _ me _ that someone’s interested, so I figured, hell, why not figure it out in the most direct way possible?”

“But-”

“Look,” Rakan sighs, turning and spreading his wing out to the side, “if you didn’t like it, if I was missing something, that’s fine! Just thought it might be something... fun. But I mean, hey, we’re both skipping town tomorrow morning, so either way’s fine by me-”

Rakan’s interrupted as a heavy hand grips his shoulder, forcing him to turn halfway back to the other.

And then it’s his turn to be surprised, as rougher lips meet his once more, but with much more force, this time.

“Oho,” Rakan says when they break apart, turning fully to Sett with a smile, “now that’s what I’m talking about, wolf-man.”

Sett puffs, and then grabs him by the waist, pulling him into an even deeper kiss. Tastes of that vastayan-nonsense named red wine and bizarre, but damn good, food.

With some well-intentioned legs and hands, Rakan pushes Sett to the leaf-littered ground, allowing him to be on top as he meets those lips, cupping that chiselled jaw that all the girls must die over.

Rakan comes to sit down on Sett’s lap, straddling his thighs to either side, wing flowing gracefully down his back and onto the dew-covered grass below.

There’s just barely enough light to make out anything at all, but they don’t really need to see much, anyway. Mostly just physical mapping and muscle memory, as both of them seem unusually talented at this particular activity.

“Tell me, do you like the way I look, or was I just being hopeful back there?” Rakan gasps between laughter, biting at Sett’s scarred lip.

“No, I do. I do. I-I’ve never seen an avian before... I’ve never seen a vastayan before, either, really...”

“Oh?” Rakan hums, tickling his fingers down Sett’s sides. “Wow, how exciting this must be for you, then! Is this your first time with a man, too?”

“No, I’ve done that quite a number of times. Not as often as women, of course, but a fair few times.”

“Oh... well, this is actually, the first time I’m doing that, so...”

Sett raises a brow, then lowers it with a smirk. “So that’s why you’re so excited. Not a lot of options in Ionia?”

“Unfortunately not. But you’re more than an option, you’re the entire deal!” Rakan lifts Sett’s shirt, touching at the same time as he exposes his abs. “Oh, yes, you really are the entire deal..!”

After getting his shirt off, Rakan spends some time just exploring the massive expanse of Sett’s muscular chest, wondering at even how a man could be so large...

Speaking of which...

Rakan bites his lip, glancing back. “So you wouldn’t mind if I touch you, right?”

“Of course not. I’m open for anything. Unless it’s dangerous, then maybe not.”

Rakan chuckles, nodding. “Okay, okay... So, I can just, oh-”

He’s surprised to move back the slightest bit and find something hard—and large—poking right against his ass. Immediately, it lights a fire in his face, and the rest of him, as he feels himself grow aroused at the thought, as well.

He scoots back a little more, stopping upon Sett’s hard, defined upper thighs, and then reaches down to slip off his pants.

But, of course, now of all times, he gets stage-fright.

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t bite... unless you want me to,” a voice comes from above, laughing.

Rakan chuckles back, nervous, but swallows his fear, and just goes for it.

And immediately after he pulls those pants down, he’s blown away.

Because wow, that’s a magnificent cock, truly.

Obviously the largest he’s ever seen in any light, and to be so close to it, able to see every detail and texture and vein on its throbbing, hard length, it’s something out of a dream.

Wonderfully thick and a red almost angry, growing only harder as he looks at it, it confirms a desire that he’d been trying desperately to ignore up until now.

“Go on,” Sett says distantly, “I insist.”

Rakan shakes his head at that reference, but is encouraged enough to move his fingers from his rucked-down pants, and around his hard length.

Sett groans immediately as he makes contact, instilling Rakan to try things with his fingers: taking both hands to grip it, he tries jacking him off like he would himself, swirling his fingers around the tip and down to his balls. Sett seems to enjoy it thoroughly.

Pre-cum begins to leak from the tip, making Rakan even more excited knowing that it’s all from his own ministrations.

“Can I... taste it?”

A pause. And then a low chuckle. “If you want to.”

Rakan leans down, sliding further down Sett’s legs with his own, and brings his mouth down to level with Sett’s huge cock.

He sticks his tongue out, just the very tip. And then glides it across the surface of his warm flesh.

Salty and the slightest bit of bitter, sweat and cum and undeniable human. Strange, but not too far from what he was expecting, what he’s been told from the women who he’d been with about his own. Just never got the chance to try it on another.

So he licks more, this time swiping the flat of his tongue from the base and all the way to the tip, and then getting brave and deciding to try tonguing his slit, lapping up the cum fresh from the source.

“Oh, fuck,” Sett groans. “Y-you know, for you first time, you’re pretty courageous...”

“One of my best and worst qualities!” Rakan grins up to him. Then goes straight back to licking at his cock. He keeps at that a few more times, and then tries to take it within his mouth. Just the very tip to start with, and then he comes back up, but quickly, he loses any and all shame, and just goes straight for it, further and further down each time, until he’s taken half of his large cock within his mouth.

“Impressive,” Sett croaks.

Then he grabs Rakan by the waist, and suddenly he’s lifted like a feather through the air, only to come down at a similar spot, cock still in sight, but noticeably punctuated by Sett’s feet rather than his head. And somehow, his shirt is in the grass quite a ways away.

Those same, massive hands come to undo Rakan’s own pants, and then when hot breath hits his bare ass, Rakan realizes the rather embarrassing position he’s now in.

“O-oh, this is too much-”

He’s cut off by a gasp, as thick, massive fingers spread his thighs, immediately making him arch his back and buckle.

Those fingers march relentlessly onward, coming down to grasp his hanging cock above Sett’s face, stroking his hard, thinner length. Not nearly as large as Sett’s, but nothing to scoff at, certainly. Quite the smooth, pretty cock, if there could be such a thing. Only a few veins upon it, and then they weren’t bulging or red as Sett’s were.

But the taste is like any cock, Sett finds, taking it into his mouth with ease, all the way to the base as he pulls Rakan’s hips down to meet his face.

“O-oh, fuck!” the vastayan swears hard, bucking even though he’s fully sheathed in a warm, wet mouth already.

Holy fuck, he could come from just this, to be completely honest. In fact, he almost does, but holds on by digging his talons into Sett’s thighs.

“Ouch,” Sett says in response, voice notably even gruffer than before.

“S-sorry,” Rakan mutters, clenching his ass as he still feels on the edge of orgasm. God, just knowing that he was dangling right above such an inviting mouth ready to suck him off, the imagery alone could make him cum.

“ ‘S’okay. What’s a few more scratches?” Sett laughs, then takes him back in his mouth.

Rakan moans loud, but is more prepared this time, so tries to focus on what’s before. That being a giant, meaty cock, of course. So he does his best to copy Sett, and deep throat him. He might not be physically capable of such a thing, but he certainly can give it his best go.

Sett seems to be enjoying it well enough, with the groans he makes as loud as Rakan’s moans, each vibrating on the other’s cock buried in his mouth. Sett’s hips even begin to move the slightest bit, a controlled, short thrust in and out of him, but being careful not to choke too hard.

They blow each other for a couple more minutes, growing more accustomed to the taste and girth of the other’s cock, and subsequently better at the blow job. Soon, Rakan feels himself more than ready to cum, as he just has to let go of Sett’s hard cock, arms giving out as he’s left to pant on Sett’s solid hip in ecstasy.

“G-gonna c-cum!” he moans loud and high, arching his back as much as he can, thrusting down and into Sett’s warm mouth as he finally blows his load all into his mou-

“Oh, Gods, no,” Rakan whines, because instead of a warm mouth, he thrusts only into air, Sett expertly having moved his lips away at the last second. “Please, let me cum!”

“Sorry,” Sett murmurs, large hand reaching out to stroke Rakan’s inner thighs. “You can cum if you want to, still.”

“Wh-what?” Rakan gasps, shudders running through him by those glorious hands touching him so close to his dripping prick. Just a hard jack and that’s all it would take, just one more and he’d cum all over, fuck!

But instead, all he gets is a devilish finger upon his length, dragging up and down to try and make him orgasm, alright, but also in a ruined, unsatisfying way. “I said, you can cum. But it might not feel the best, just a warning.” Laughter to rival a demon himself.

Rakan shakes his head, groaning into Sett’s groin as he trembles all over. Gods, damn that fucking finger... it’s just the slightest breath of a touch, feather-light and tracing up and down a twitching vein on his cock. Not enough to cum, but he’s so damn close to orgasm he might anyway, but if he does, what a waste that would be! It truly is fucking torture!

“Can I finger you?”

“Wh... what?” Rakan furrows his brows, looking back as the stroking finally stops, and his orgasm flags with the confusion.

“Have you ever tried that before? Putting something in your ass?”

“O-oh,” Rakan blushes, looking away and busying his fingers on the hard cock beside his face. “Yeah, I have... only a few fingers, though. Nothing else,” he pouts.

Sett laughs. “I could fix that for you.”

“Okay. Just don’t hurt me.”

“I promise,” Sett smiles.

He immediately goes to work, sucking on his own fingers, and then circling his pinky around the pale pink hole that’s been winking at him this whole time, teasing him. Just the pinky, the smallest finger, because Sett knows from previous encounters that most people don’t have hands nearly his size, and the rest of their bodies usually don’t take it the easiest, either.

He pushes in slowly, giving plenty of time and patience for the first intrusion. Rakan pants, but tells him to continue. Taking it impressively easily. He really must have tried this before, plenty of times, in all honesty.

Sett smiles to himself, adding his ring finger beside it, stretching a little once entirely within. Just these two fingers would be enough for plenty of normal humans, but Sett thinks Rakan would like to be pushed to his limits, and he’s interested to see where exactly that limit might be.

So, after some go ahead, he inserts his middle finger, and that’s definitely a stretch. The girth of a typical cock, so it takes some adjusting to, as he fucks his fingers slowly in and out to get him used to it, but he eventually manages.

“Want to stop there?” he asks.

Rakan pauses, thinking about it. A part of him really doesn’t want to, because although he has practised himself and enjoys it every time, it still does hurt, and he’s already never been stretched this wide, so to do even more...

But then the other part of him really does want to, wants those huge hands all over him, outside and in. Wants to see if he can do it, know what it will feel like.

And he’s also drunk, so.

“No,” he says firmly, “keep going.”

Sett hums, tilting his head as he begins to manoeuvre his index into that already tight, tight hole. He certainly was persistent, he’ll give him that, at least.

But as he adds that massive fourth finger, Rakan makes a few squeaks and whimpers, but then he moans. And it’s obvious that he can, in fact, handle it.

Sett raises a brow, impressed. Only a slim few of people actually can take that much inside, let alone on the first try with another man.

“H-hey...” Rakan breathes, hot and warm against his still-hard cock.

“Yes? Want me to stop-”

“No.” He looks back, tears pricking his eyes, but a smile comes to his face as he says, “More. Try to do the thumb and get your entire fist inside of me.”

“Wow. Well... I mean, if you want me to try, okay,” Sett smiles back, but knowing even as he makes the beak motion with his fingers that this almost certainly, most definitely, won’t actually happen.

Oh, he’s tried. Plenty of times. Always wanted to be able to shove his entire fist inside of someone. Maybe because he used to do that all the time, but less of a death way, and more of a pushing the limits way.

He presses in with all five fingers, and it does work, but quickly as he slides past the second joints of his fingers, it gets hard. Really hard. So damn tight around him, but more concerning than that, is how much pain Rakan must be in.

But instead, Sett hears, “Just, hah, k-keep going.”

Panting past moans of pain and pleasure alike, Rakan lies mostly still on his crotch but for occasional shivering. He looks incredibly pitiful, and definitely in pain, but as Sett hesitates, Rakan himself begins to get impatient.

He moves his hips back, trying to force his hand further inside of himself.

“Okay, okay!” Sett says, stilling his hips with his other hand on his round ass. “Fine, but if you want me to stop, just tell me immediately...”

He sets his teeth, and uses his other hand as an anchor, trying with all his might to push into the already tight entrance becoming impossibly tighter with every slight bit of progress.

It hurts, oh, it fucking hurts like hell, to be stretched so damn far out of his comfort zone, but Rakan ignores his tears and balls his fists, trying to stay relaxed and open.

And somehow, they make it. All the way to Sett’s final knuckles, the thickest part of his hand.

Then it seems truly impossible to get over that hump, and actually be inside of him.

“We can stop her-”

“No,” Rakan cries, really crying now, but still stubborn despite the discomfort and pain, “all the way. Just push it in, I know you can.”

“But I’ll hurt you-”

“No you won’t! Just do it-”

All it takes is a slight punch forward, and that’s it. Right past the ridge of his knuckles, and up to his wrist. Sett’s eyes widen.

Rakan muffles his cry into Sett’s cock, drooling all over his balls with shock and a deep, weird sense of pleasure and satisfaction both.

He’s done it. Actually done it. Done the impossible. Fisted by Sett’s huge, powerful hand, taken the entire thing up to the hilt, like nobody’s done before.

For that, Rakan definitely deserves to get his cock sucked.

So Sett does, deep throating him up and down, moving his fingers within him all the while, carefully exploring his insides. Simultaneously the most and least intimate thing he’s ever done, probably.

“D-don’t,” he hears, even as Rakan begins to suck his cock in tandem, “don’t make me cum right away. I want you to... fist me, really fist me.”

Wow, just wow...

Sett can’t even question it anymore, so instead, he just starts withdrawing his hand, slow on the knuckle but fast on everything else, pulling Rakan’s cock out of his mouth at the same time. Then he shoves his hand back inside, slow but not nearly as gradual as last time, and takes his cock all the way as well, wrapping his tongue around his shaft and licking against the head.

“Fuck!” Rakan cries, but now he knows he can take it without breaking. He becomes almost mad with pleasure, wrapping his lips around Sett’s cock and jacking the rest of him off with his hand. It also helps to keep from choking entirely on his huge length, as Sett seems to begin to lose control as well and thrusts into his mouth relentlessly.

All the while, his cock is also being taken all the way into a warm and undeniably skilled mouth, Sett’s hand now in a true fist as he fucks it in and out of Rakan’s hole now more or less accustomed to the punishment he’s made to take.

He punches in and out of his ass, stroking his fingers along his prostate and licking at the tip of his cock, listening to the moans around his own as they both draw rapidly to orgasm.

With a sharp cry, Rakan is the first, finally unloading his seed into Sett’s mouth as he wanted to what feels like hours ago.

But he’s not too quick, as Sett’s just a few seconds behind him, cumming with a grunt as he swallows seed at the same time as his orgasm.

And if Rakan’s load was impressive, Sett’s is downright unholy. Rakan tries his best to take the load and swallow it all, but it’s just impossible. Thank the Gods he’s on top and not the other way around, or he might actually choke to death on cock and semen. Wouldn’t be the worst way to die in Runeterra, but he would prefer to stay alive and only half-gagging on an immense load.

Rakan pops off of Sett’s mouth after he’s finally done cumming with his fourth shot into his throat, gasping for air as he pulls his hips up and onto the grass beside Sett, the fist within him tentatively withdrawn, as if that matters anymore. His ass is probably destroyed for the rest of the night, even sitting would be hard...

But whatever, Rakan can smile despite all the discomfort and the knowledge, as he looks up, that yes, that did just happen. He really did get fisted by one of the largest men he’s ever met, on the first night of meeting him, and sucked a cock and got his sucked in turn. But he asked for it, all of it, so he can’t complain about any of it.

“So,” Rakan pants, propping himself up on the grass, feeling quite free, as they’re both almost entirely nude, “where are you from?”

“Honestly?”

“Mhm. No more lies.”

“I’m from Noxus.”

“Oh, fuck...” Rakan groans, rubbing his face. Sett frowns, but then Rakan grins, “Just kidding! I knew you guys weren’t as bad as everyone says!”

“Um, I’m not so sure about that...” Sett chuckles, glancing away. “Anyway,” he glances back, “my real name is Sett.”

“Ahh, lied about that too, huh? Mm, that makes sense-wait that’s just your name backwards, isn’t it?”

“I never said I was a good liar.”

Rakan shakes his head. “Anyway, we should get back to that inn to stay the night.”

“Don’t wanna spend the night under the stars?”

Rakan chuckles to himself, already dressing himself. But then he stops before pulling his shirt on, instead pulling out something from a bag.

And the moment it starts raining, he flips his umbrella open, saving himself and his things from being drenched.

Unfortunately for Sett, he’s left to grovel and rush to redress himself, but there’s little point, as he’s immediately soaked to the bone.

“How did you know it was going to rain?!” he yells, panicking, so he can barely redo the buttons to his pants.

Rakan laughs, taking his time in smoothing his clothes back down. “Vastaya are magic, remember?”

Sett grunts, following after Rakan as he leads back into town.

“And I saw rain clouds earlier. But the magic did tell me the second before it started, so at least there’s that!”

Sett groans, crossing his arms and pouting as the downpour only picks up, the little bird entirely unaffected in his tiny circle of dryness.

“But um... after we get back, do you-”

“We’ll get one room. And you’ll wring out my clothes with me.”

“Okay,” Rakan laughs, “fair, fair.”

Walking after the vastayan in quiet but for the rain, there was little doubt in Sett’s mind that he would probably leave this town, just like all the rest. Continue to explore the widest reaches of Runeterra, to places he hadn’t seen, maybe even heard of but for whispers.

Maybe he would never settle down, never really find a place to call a home.

But looking after this odd exception for the stuck-up vastaya, he had another feeling, one that thought maybe, he wouldn’t be entirely alone on his adventures anymore.

Just maybe.

**Author's Note:**

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> Vastaya is suspiciously close to Vātsyāyana, the writer of the Kama Sutra, don’tcha think? Idk just a dumb observation someone on a Discord server I was in made lol. Probably just a coincidence… Probably… 
> 
> Anyway, tyvm for reading! I hope this was fun :D


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